Qeya River Twilight

The journey was over, for now. Soon they would begin the long trek that would have them hunting the caribou through many different territories. It would be tough, he knew, but it would be invigorating.

He skirted the territory as he often did, meandering along the borders and past them- hoping he might find some trace of scent that was from a time before this one.

His heart slammed to a halt in his chest, when he caught the scent of his son. 

Darrow? His voice faltered. @Darrow! More certain now, that he could tell it was real. He howled, hoping that fate might restore one blessing to him.

Their voices were once all he'd prayed for, their presence, all he'd hoped for - but a vital piece was missing.

Sheep Killer. Ksura. He'd become a part of this people, and his blood burned at mother's eyes staring back at him from whatever world eclipsed her.

He still didn't know what had happened to her, what had made this place swarm with so many foreign wolves who knew mom as blank space and dad as something else. He only knew Ash Star was gone.

He pieced together the rest.

But how much was true? That could only be answered by the man who sought him out, and Darrow clung to the hope that when he saw him, he would find Ash Star standing by his side, or her scent clinging to his pelt. But Ksura was alone, and starfire burned in his belly.

What the bloody-hell happened, dad? came the youths sharp greeting, why are you Sheep Killer now? Who are these wolves? And where's mom.

He squared off in front of his father and swallowed back the burn of tears. His eyes steeled, instead, and his body followed suit - even if all he wanted to do was collapse into his father's chest and sob with him forever.

;__; I'm sorry

The scent persisted, and grew. Ksura heart battered wildly against his chest, and when he set eyes on his son his vision was quickly blurred with tears. His ears fell back, and tail swept in an arc so wide that he fanned his own ribcage with the paintbrush-tip of it. Needless to say, he was shocked and ground to a standstill when his own son rebuked him.

I- Darrow wasn’t happy to see him at all. Not even relieved. He shook his head, flabbergasted. Darrow! He repeated, as if trying to snap his son out of a daze- himself, too. I’m still Ksura, they just wanna have a pack-given name, He said. Of course, he wasn’t Ksura or Sheep Killer now, he was Ridgeback. The names would be explainable. 

Son- The heavy news of his mother was pushed back in his mind as he stepped forward, a brittle but honest smile on his features. Eyes filled with trembling tears. Where were you? I searched, but…Where did you go?

Bitter tears stung at Darrow's eyes as Ksura came to him. There were tears in dad's eyes too, but of a softer kind. Darrow had dreamed of their reunion ever since he'd realized he was lost. Even now, he wished he could just throw himself into his father's arms and get lost in the reassurance that everything was okay, that everything was the same.

Instead, his eyes bit with fire and his voice was a knife. When Ksura stepped towards him, he took the same step back.

I got lost looking for Lost Creek Hollow, he said, like it had been a minor thing. Three days since he'd left Qeya River blurred together with incomprehensible clarity. They had changed him, shaped him, in ways he hated, in ways that had always been there, stewing beneath his innocence. But though the Wilds had hardened him, he's always known dad would have looked for him, and only given up when he realized he couldn't find him. It was why Darrow had never stopped looking. It was why he didn't blame Ksura for giving up.

But none of what dad said answered any of his questions, not in the ways he was looking for.

What pack, dad? his voice grew quiet. And where's mom?